Dear Jacky

5/21

Dear Jacky,

I'm going up to visit Carrie and Sammy soon. And by soon, I mean in like four days? I'm in all honesty really nervous. I mean, I haven't seen them since your funeral. And that day, no one really wanted to talk. Well, no one except for Carrie. I just realised, she never saw your body. No one did except for everyone that was there when we found you. It was honestly one of the most horrifying, tragic things I've ever seen and will ever see. There was watery blood dripping from your wrists and fingers and they carried you out. Bloody water dripped from every other part of your body. Your hair was dripping at the ends and completely dry at the top. I swear, it looked as if you had just come out of a horror movie. It was honestly scary. I can't think of any other word to describe it. It was scary, sad, heartbreaking, life-shattering. Everything felt ruined and destroyed. It was just your body, never to walk, breathe, smile, skip, sit, hug, anything. Ever again. They literally told your mother that you were dead before they even examined your body. They knew. They saw your wrists. They saw your blood. They saw your face. One of the paramedics almost cried. I saw how upset he was. I heard your neighbours talking when they saw the black body bag. "It's so sad." "You have to be an idiot to end your life." I almost punched that person in the face. I swear. He didn't know what happened. He didn't know your life at all. He had no idea what happened and he had the nerve to say that. Ugh! People like him make me want to commit crimes that pt you on death row. I mean, I'm sure if you kill one person, you won't really feel guilt killing multiple people. I wonder how much throwing knives are. If you just hit me...OW! That hurt!

You know, I don't get it. I don't get how you read over my shoulder what I feel is almost all the time and then only prove to me that you're here rarely. Or maybe it's just my imagination. I don't know. You make me feel like you're always watching. Like you know when I'm writing and you know when I'm going through your stuff. I wish you could just sit across the room from me and roll a ball back and forth with me. I don't know. It's the little things I miss. The little things like playing with your hair or feeding you mashed potatoes because I knew they were your favourite. Failing miserably at playing baseball or even catch. I miss being able to call you babe or mine. I miss the cliche shit you'd make fun of in romance movies. I miss everything about you and the shitty part is that I can't do anything about it. If you broke up with me it'd be a different story. I would do everything in my willpower to make you mine again. Everything. Now, now I can't do anything. I can't do anything except write to you and hope to god you open or read over my shoulder. I write to tell you how much I love and miss you. I write to show that my feelings are still here, if not greater than before. Everything is still here. And I'd give anything to have you just once more. Anything, Jacklyn. Anything. 

I don't even know what to tell you anymore. I honestly don't. I just repeat things at this point. All I do is repeat. I would say I only write to you when I miss you or something important happens, but that's everyday. I miss you everyday. And something important does happen. Something you should be witnessing. Something that makes me think you would've laughed if you were still here. But whether that's the case or not, I survive another day without you every day. Every fucking day. I hate cursing in letters because it makes me think that you think I'm mad at you, which I am, but I don't want to express it in some letters. But do you know how hard it is to survive without you everyday, even after two years. Jesus, I write these like you died last week or something. A week after you died, I hadn't left my room or ate anything at all. I refused to believe it was true. I cuddled with one of your stuffed animals and a sweatshirt you left at my house one time. I stared at my phone waiting for you to text me and tell me you missed me or that you were upset or how rude your mom was being. I was waiting for a sarcastic, ironic tweet from you making fun of politics or misandrists or anything. I was waiting for a feminist comment from you on my YouTube video. I was waiting for anything. I was in denial, Jack. I refused to believe it. I refused to accept the fact that you didn't want my help that time. After my dad kicked me out, though, that's when I believed it. That's when I believed you were really gone. I went to your house and straight to your room. Your smell was already slowly going away. I sprayed your perfume but it wasn't the same. I stuck to your clothes. I would smell your clothes and just remember you were once here. Remember that you loved me and that you were my everything. I don't want that to change, Jacky. I never want it to change, but I know one day it might. I know one day I'll talk to that cute girl and I know that maybe something will happen with a girl. I know that I won't have little versions of you and me running around, but little versions of me and another girl instead. I hope to God that they'll have some part of you in them. I never want you to be gone. I never want you to disappear from my life, Jack. Never. I don't want you to leave me. 

Your mom wants to sell the house. She wants to start cleaning out your room. I hate to say it but I do too. It just keeps reminding me of what you once were. You were once alive. You once wore those clothes. You once danced around that room. You once loved me in that room. God I miss those days. The days where we'd just cuddle and sleep and make fun of each other. I miss the other days too. The days where you'd tease me and slowly get undressed in front of me. And when I would call you beautiful once you were fully naked, you'd get mad  but blush and thank me anyway. You always told me how sweet I was after we made love. You would always tell me how one day I was going to kill the mood by calling you beautiful. But I always knew I wouldn't. I always knew that it was secretly your favourite part. Sometimes you just needed to be reminded you were beautiful, Princess. I wish I could still tell you that. But now sadly, you're probably just gross rotting flesh. And I'm sorry to say, but that's not beautiful at all. But your spirit was beautiful. It still is. Your personality. Your smile. You were just outstandingly beautiful. And I loved you. I did. I do. Everything about you, Jacklyn. Everything. I don't know. Sometimes I think I'm crazy for loving you. How come I always end a letter with an I don't know? Why is that a thing. Whatever. I wish you were here, Love. I wish I could watch your cheeks turn bright red from me calling you that. I wish I didn't even have to write these.

Love,

Danny